“Hey, come back here…” Her eyes narrowed in a squint as she motioned for me to come forward. She then glanced at Mr. Clinton, furrowing her eyebrow with her hand on her waist. “Won’t you introduce her properly? You haven’t even introduced me to her yet.”
His face lit up in amusement; it seemed this was his mother’s typical behavior. “Forgive my manners,” he apologized, gesturing towards me with a sheepish grin. “Mother, this is Sarah, my best friend’s daughter. And Sarah, this is my mother…” He glanced at her after his conciliatory introduction.
She glared at him and slapped his shoulders. “Is that how you introduce your mother?”
Her reproof made me snort; my eyes darted to Mr. Clinton, his eyebrow quirked, looking away as he was fed up with her tantrum. “You called me mother without adding sweet or lovely.”
She hummed in annoyance and faced me with a warm smile. “I am his mother; you can call me Miss Rose.”
She is quite a funny one; I think we might get along really well.
I nodded, returning the smile, pointing in the direction of the kitchen. “Let me go dish the food,” I said before striding to the kitchen.
I set the table, drawing one of the chairs for her to sit on. Her face lighting up with a pleased smile. “Thank you, dear…” she said before inhaling, her chest heaving up. “Your food smells delicious…”
She slowly nodded, handling the cutlery. After chewing a large piece of the vegetables, her face wrinkled with delight. “Tasty… I like girls that learned to cook from a young age, not like that girl…”
“Mother…” Mr. Clinton cut her off, his gaze fixed on her as if sending an unspoken message across. “What?” She furrowed her brow as she continued chewing on her food.
I looked away, containing my laughter; I didn’t want to watch the playful tension brewing between the mother and son; it was just too hilarious.
“I told you many times to stop comparing anyone to Nicole,” he snapped, his voice firm and gentle, but I caught the subtle stern undertone.
Why was he getting angry all of a sudden? Sometimes I really can’t understand him, but who is the girl?
“Who is Nicole?” I couldn’t help but ask, my prying eyes darting between the two.
“Eat your food and don’t be nosy,” he snapped, with a piercing gaze. His irritation was palpable.
I guess he is still upset with me about last night…
I quickly averted my gaze back to my plate and ate silently.
“She is just curious, and don’t you dare interrupt me again,” Miss Ross admonished him, her finger pointing at him. “You know what I always say about her is the truth.”
Who the hell is the ‘her’ I’d like to know?
Their riddles were only piquing my curiosity. I bit my lips, my eyes keen on them as they continued their discussion about the ‘girl’ she was comparing me to.
“Mother, please change the subject…” Mr. Clinton said, exasperatedly dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t want any disapproving comments about her again.”
He swiftly got up, his thigh pushing the chair backward. Luckily it wasn’t made of plastic; if it was, it would have been tumbling by now with his snappy thrust.
He walked out of the dining room, his feet plunking on the floor.
Miss Ross smiled softly as she turned her gaze towards me. “Ignore him; he has a short fuse, especially when you meddle with his soft spot.”
“What’s his soft spot?” I asked, intrigued.
She motioned for me to come closer. I did, and she replied with a hushed whisper, “He wouldn’t want me to tell you.”
What the… My eyes bulged, taken aback by her reply. I inhaled sharply and straightened up in my seat.
She’s quite provocative, to say the least. I wonder how Mr. Clinton puts up with her antics.
She was even snorting, giving me a smug look.
My lips twitched as I watched her laugh at me.
I quickly downed the remaining food on my plate, chugged my juice, and left the dining room.
As I walked upstairs, I couldn’t help but wonder who Nicole was. The name wasn’t ringing any bells.
And why was Mr. Clinton so infuriated when her name was mentioned, especially when his mother tried comparing me to her?
I reached the doorway, an entrance to the passage leading to the bedrooms. On my way to my room, I accidentally bumped into Mr. Clinton.
No, he bumped into me.
“Sorry…” I flinched backwards, but I caught the seethe on his face.
What the hell! is he still angry over what his momma said?
He was becoming more unfathomable by the second.
He didn’t spare me a glance and tried to take the side turn, but I grabbed his arm. We were barely an inch apart, my forehead hovering over his muscular chest as I remembered I have to apologize to him. “Mr. Clinton, about what I said earlier today… I’m…”
“You don’t have to hold my arm while apologizing,” he cut me off as he tilted his head, his eyes locking on mine.
I immediately withdrew my hand without breaking eye contact. “My words might have hurt, and I am deeply sorry…”
His gaze softened, but I could still see a glint of bitterness in his eyes.
I felt this wasn’t only about the outburst and his mother’s words earlier.
There was something else, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Apology accepted,” he replied, his jaw clenching slightly. “But only if you promise me…”
“Please don’t…” I didn’t let him say the rest because I knew the exact words he was going to tell me. “I can’t promise you that… I can’t…” I shook my head, my gaze falling to the ground.
He sighed, getting agitated. “Sarah,” he called in a loud whisper, then he took a deep, long breath trying to calm down. “Look, I’m begging you. Get me out of your mind; we are worlds apart. You and I understand that this can’t work. It’s just so wrong…”
My heart constricted as I stared into nothing in particular. I wanted to rebut, but no words came out of my mouth. He kept repeating the same words that shattered my heart. I know what he was saying was the truth, but it’s still not true at the same time.
Our relationship can work only if he accepts me and allows himself to reciprocate my feelings.
“Move on, Sarah,” he added before walking away.
That was the tip of the iceberg; his words crushed my hope.
“Mr. Clinton,” I swerved down the doorway, following behind him. “Mr. Clinton.” I called again, and he halted without facing me.
In that moment, I had nothing to say; I helplessly gazed at his back, feeling downtrodden with the third rejection.
I couldn’t bring myself to forget the feelings I have harbored for him for all these years. Even with his dismissal of my idea of love, my heart still pulsated, making me strive forward to achieve my goal.
And that’s him accepting me despite the chain of relationships between the both of us and my father that made it seem all awkward.
No, I can’t forget him.
There is one thing I don’t know how to do, and that’s give up.
Suddenly, I felt a surge of determination coursing through me, breaking the shards of hopelessness.
I held my head high; with a single stride, I broke the distance between us. I leaned closer, my lips tantalizingly hovering over his ears as I whispered,
“I won’t force you to reciprocate my feelings anymore; I’ll make sure you come crawling back to me. By that time, you’ll be the one cutting the chase.”